I'm a slave for you
by rockybluewigs
Summary: Five-shot / So the week of being Clare's slave continues. However the weird thing is, I'm actually enjoying it more than I should. / CLARE/KIM. (Rated appropriately for implicit content and light dom/sub features)
1. touch me

AN: I could be in charge of this DIOCKKK—I mean, I don't own Kickin' It.

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Have you ever had to endure a week with someone you hate? Has it become so insufferably pleasurable, that being away from said person is painful? Has it come to that point already, because I'm _literally_ sitting in my last class of the day, and my legs are shaking with anticipation and unresolved sexual tension. Nothing makes me more agitated than sitting in a lecture with a boring teacher, and the only person who's paying attention...no, scratch that. Not even Julie's paying attention. That's how bad it is.

Despite the quietness of the classroom, my thoughts are_ immensely_ loud. It's so plagued with the idea of Clare plaguing my thoughts, replacing things I should be thinking about. The week of pain just started and I'm already falling down to my knees for her. She has me on a tight, invisible leash, something that I've never experienced with anyone else. I can't stop shaking my leg and chewing my pencil until I taste the metallic graphite on my tongue, and I can't stand the look that Jack is giving me either. It's making me nervous.

_Everything's_ making me nervous.

I know she's waiting for me in the front steps, so she can take me under her claws and make me her slave for the rest of the day. Ever since the incident at the civic center, the few things I've had to do for the two days since were benign, but they still make me anxious. Clare's an unpredictable one. She may tell me to do something so embarrassing (like wearing a chicken suit yesterday wasn't embarrassing enough) that I may have to leave town forever. However, that incident at the civic center takes over my daydreams, my night dreams, and possibly my life.

Fuck. She kisses so _damned_ good, and I couldn't face to kiss anyone else (if I ever get the chance). It makes me question myself, my relationships; was I always like this? Has it always been there? I've never liked girls - I don't even like Clare to begin with, but what she did to me, it left a mark. It left a mark so fucking deep that there's no turning back. I can't seal it, sew it up, or lock it away from sight and mind.

My thoughts, my raging thoughts, come to an end when the bell rings. I waste no time in packing my books, and speeding out of the classroom as quickly as possible. I don't care about the homework or the project. I just want to get out of there - the school, the staring, the inappropriate thoughts in a history class, and the sweating. I slap my forehead to feel the slight sweat on it, completely unaware that I was stress-sweating again. It's not that bad, but it's embarrassing.

I open my locker, and get all of my necessary stuff out of it, but something (or someone) interrupts me.

"Kim?"

I tense up, but I don't have the courage to turn around. I know what he's going to say. It's just so terrible; we broke up immediately after the incident, because I couldn't have a relationship start with cheating, and I'm not going to lie either. It's just not going to happen. I'm not a cheater, and I'm definitely not a liar. "Yes?"

I can feel Jack getting closer, with his scent wafting my senses, all at once. "Are you okay? You practically ran out of class."

"Fine, I just _really_ hate history class," I laugh nervously, which is the truth. I did not listen when everyone told me Mr. Dolan was particularly hard. "Is the dojo still closed for fumigations?"

Apparently there was a slight roach and rat infestation at the dojo, and the health inspector demanded a full fumigation until all the creatures are gone. It's been closed for two days, but I haven't complained (much). Maybe that's why my anxiety's been on the rocks again. "Yeah. I think it would be closed for another week."

The hallways slowly get empty, since most students go home (or just leave school grounds), and it feels like I'm the only person here, with Jack standing behind me with a vexed expression mixed with concern and whatever other feeling is there, and I'm probably stress sweating again. I can feel it. "Uh, fine. I'll probably just go home then. It's been a long day, and I have loads of homework to do." Lie, unless it involves Clare's hands on my human body.

I slam my locker shut and run the other direction, without hearing as much as a reply. As soon as I reach outside, i feel a chilly breeze hit my bare shoulders, I hear the rush the footballers and cheerleaders practicing in the football field, and I sense the mixture of aristocracy and green apples in the air.

Clare.

She stands right in front of me, with her uniform on and her hair in a half updo. She wears her signature evil smirk behind her attractive face, with her arms crossed. "Oh Kimmy, I was starting to get worried."

"You shouldn't," I retort bitterly, and descend the stairs two at a time. "I'm not a person you should worry about." It's true, even though I'm being mean. Clare doesn't care about me at all. If she would, she would stop this as soon as possible. she would go on with her life, and leave mine alone. However, she doesn't care. Why should I, though? She's caused me to end things with the one guy I truly cared about, just so I don't exactly cheat on him. She causes me to feel anxious and angry, yet calm and horny all at the same time. I hate her, but I don't either.

"But I do," Clare whispers, and grabs my wrist to pull me closer to her face. "You're my slave, remember?"

"Masters don't exactly care for their slaves," I point out, obviously. I try to struggle away from the grip she has on me, but it gets tighter as I keep moving away. "Why should I be the exception?"

"Ooh, you're exceptionally snappy at me today," she mocks, with a hand over her chest. "I think I know what I should do to calm you down."

"Not here—"

"Why not? _No one's_ _watching._" Clare's grin grows wider as she slowly closes the gap between us. I know Jack is watching, but after feeling her lips on mine, other thoughts fade away. I give in so easily, that I can't control the moan I let out, and she can't control the grin I feel against her lips. I've melted into putty into her hands. I'm _hers_. This isn't exactly a master-slave relationship, because I'm not supposed to enjoy it, but shit - masochism has never felt so good. She makes it seem like submitting is the best thing on earth, rather than owning my opponents and flipping them on the ground.

Before I react any further, she breaks the short-lived kiss, and stares straight at me. "Better?"

I don't respond, but I do nod. she pulls me towards her car, and I take the passenger seat. We both drive away, and I don't look back at all. The pain grows even bigger, now that I look at the rearview mirror to see Jack standing there, with a worried and shocked expression on his face. He probably knows the real reason we broke up. I know he hates me - I would hate me too. No, I'm already there.

—

I feel the metal chains on my wrist, over my head, locked onto the metal headboard. My legs are free, however, and I'm only in my undergarments. My clothes are in a heap next to the bed, but I still feel her presence, staring at me up and down, while tightening the restraints on my wrists. "God, can this get any looser?" I challenge, with a small smirk on my face.

"What's that, you want it tighter?" Clare taunts back, and tightens it harder. I chuckle under my breath, feeling some of the circulation cut off. Yeah, I'm a bit calmer than before...this is what happens when you've grown so accustomed to someone who you're supposed to hate. The small banter seems to heighten things, and the fact that this is the first time she's ever tied me up in ways I can't describe…"Is that better for you?"

"Yes," I moan.

Clare steps over to the other side of the bed, with a smirk on her face and her uniform top missing. She only leaves the skirt on, and I fear that she isn't wearing underwear under that anymore. I don't ask; I just let the mind wander. Swiftly, Clare climbs on top of me, and runs her fingers up and down on my sides. I squirm a little, and bite my lip to refrain from whimpering. She stops, after seeing the conflict in my face, and she leans over to my ear. Her breath tickles the shell of my ear, her hands situated on my sides. "You're a hot slave."

"Just shut up and _touch_ me," I whisper breathily, feeling one of Clare's talented hands move down, from my waist to the hem of my underwear. I don't even know why I said that. It slipped out. Yet, I don't really care.

"If you're trying to beg, you're going to do better than that."

God damn it. I don't want to beg for anything. "I'm not begging. Slaves don't exactly beg."

"Uh uh uh, are you _failing_ your history, Kimmy?" Clare chuckles. "If you want me to touch you, then you have to ask for it." Clare reaches up and grabs a copious amount of my hair roughly. I hiss sharply, enough for it to encircle the room. "And if you're my slave for the next week, you're going to beg for it. You're mine now, if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, I kind of figured it out," I roll my eyes, failing to hide the snark in my voice.

She moves back, and crosses her arms with a genuine smile. "Alright, then. It seems like you're—"

"No," I groan. I can't believe I'm doing this. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please...touch me."

Suddenly, I feel her hand surpass my underwear. I grip the handlebars, and scream silently, my back arching slightly off the bed. I feel her fingers touching me there, making me scream and moan and arch my back and my eyes flutter, and I can't control any of the cuss words slipping out of my mouth. She giggles slightly, and that's the last thing I hear before everything turns black.

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AN: And that concludes the first part. Guys, it's been a while. I can't express my excitement to be writing more fics for the kickin' it archive, because I kind of missed it. This archive is growing immensely. The last time I checked, it had 1000 fics, and now it's tripled to 3K.

I know things seem ooc, but this is the power of the submissive/dominant type. I'm really not trying to make things ooc, but ugh - as of ships, there's only one you should worry about (clare/kim). There's also mentions of millie, if you're really angry about the lesbianism, but they're gonna break up, because I hate that pairing. I'm not obligated or forced to end this with kick, and I'm not sure if I would even end this with kick, so don't pester me.

To be completely honest, I've had it with kick on the archive, so I may just post my last kick one-shot before calling it quits. Everything's been attempted, and I don't want to make a carbon copy of a prompt and call it 'my own'. I've already written a breakfast club AU, a top-ten reason fic, a crossover with Victorious, and I'm planning something else, so yeah. I don't hate the pairing, at all. I'm just saying. I'm done with creating carbon copies on this site. It's funny as well, because I feel like if I wrote another carbon copy of kick, I would get a bucketload of reviews and follows, but it's not worth it. I'm so sorry, guys. Het isn't even my strong suit.

And with that, I bid you fare-well, until the second part! :)


	2. dark horse

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own Kickin' It. Stop pestering me about it.**

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Last night's a blur. All I remember is the bit of blood on the metal chains, and the way I'm touched like hot coal on warm skin. The carefulness and the wary decisions - it's so uncanny how she hates me, but touches me like she doesn't. It confuses me even more, since I didn't exactly agree on sexual slavery. I don't know why I let Clare touch me, but the minute Clare touches me is the minute I partially black out, and things are hazy until she drives me home. I don't even know how I get up to even get dressed.

All I know is that my mom questions me on my bleeding scars, since I was way too rough on pulling the chains.

School's another blur, as well. The usual shit happens everyday, and I'm quite tired of it. However, I'm in history class again, and it's boring as hell. I don't know how this teacher even received a teaching license, since he does nothing but drawl on and on about history. I find myself enjoying Milton's snoring way more than the talking, and that's saying a lot.

No, seriously. The redhead is just napping right in front of me, with no care in the world. No one else cares, either. this is history, the most boring subject of all subjects.

I look at my chewed pencil, and the little bit of notes I jot down. There's a project coming up, and it's about what we've been learning in the past two weeks, which is slavery and the American Civil War. It's a single project (which I'm thankful for) and it has a writing concept to it. I started on it, but then, the gymnastics competition happened, and then the 'being Clare's slave for a week' thing happened, and then the breakup happened…

Shit. I've been under a rock for a while now.

The slaves were maltreated and abided to a schedule almost everyday for the rest of their life...free slaves weren't allowed to come back...Abraham Lincoln attempted in many ways to eradicate slavery in the South - oh god, I cannot do this. This is harder than it looks. I have to write three fucking pages of this _shit_, starting with what, the _triangular passage_? I can barely write a page about my childhood, and I've _attempted_!

My mind is only going haywire because of last night, and the fact that I have three more days until the end of this slave tryst.

However, I find myself enjoying this more than I should. It resembles a drug (or a placebo) that you can't get enough of. It's the drug, that you know it's dangerous but you keep coming back nonetheless. This...tryst is my drug. It's dangerous, but it's damned good. I keep thinking about it everyday, like I can't get enough of it. It's so complicated.

I don't know what I have to do today, but I have an idea. I just hope I'm not tied up again. My wrists are still recovering from last night. Seriously, I have to wear two exercise wristbands to make sure no attention is drawn to my wrists. These alpha bitches would think I'm cutting myself, which is far from the truth.

The bell rings, and I slowly pack up my things in my bag. When the rush of students are gone, the teacher is still packing his stuff up, and Milton is still sleeping. God, this guy can sleep through everything.

I reach over, and shake him vigorously. "Yo, Milton, class is over."

After seeing his eyes flutter, I roll my eyes and pick up my bag from the chair. He sits up, rubs his eyes, and closes his book. I don't wait back, instead I leave the classroom and get ready to leave the school. The rush of last period kids getting ready to get out of here, reminds me of an anticipated Friday, but I know that tonight is an evening showing for the new zombie vampire movie at the theater, and tickets are half-off. I'm not putting myself through that again, ever since the first movie that I slept through.

I leave the school, and I know for a fact that Clare is standing there, waiting for me to show up. I heave a sigh, and saunter over to her, and her face lights up in a smirk and a twinkle that I've only seen in people that take advantage of others. "So, I heard from some source that my little Kimmy doesn't like zombie vampire movies."

Like that's a surprise to anyone, at all. "So, you went to go buy tickets?"

She laughs, and nods. "And as my slave, you have to watch it, or you'll get punished."

I snarl, "What's your idea of a punishment? Tying me up again? Making me your lap dog? _Kissing_ me in front of my friends?"

"That's not a punishment, my dear slave," Clare chuckles, and starts her car. "What's wrong? Did your sweet little ex-boyfriend not enjoy the lesbian fan service?"

"You knew he was behind me, didn't you?" I glare at her, as we drive further away from the school. "Why the fuck are you doing this to me?"

"Because you're mine, Kimberly," she spits back. "And once you're mine, there's no going back."

—

The theater is full of kids from school, and I find myself rolling my eyes. Why, out of all the movie theaters in this fucking city, does _everyone_ go to this one? Why must everyone be here, especially when they can see me getting tortured by the biggest bitch in _another_ school? It's not going to be pretty, that's for sure.

The back of the movie theater is empty, yet the front is full of students waiting to make out during a film. My heart tenses, after I see the one guy I don't want to see, ever since the kiss yesterday. The one guy that mattered to me, my friends, and eventually my dad (if he can get over the thought of me growing up too fast with silly love).

Jack's holding hands with (ohfuckno) Lorie, with a bucket of popcorn in his hands, and sits on the aisle seat, with the blond skank right next to her. Ugh, if I wasn't in this conflicted predicament, I would snap her _goddamn_ head in half for getting her _chlamydia_-infested hands all over him. At the end of the night, that fucking slut will put her man hands all over Jack, and they'll probably be exclusive tomorrow. Fuck my current life, as we speak.

"Green isn't your color," I hear Clare whisper in my ear, and I feel her hand on my jean-clad inner thigh. The hand feels extra hot against my clothed skin.

"Can we just watch the movie that you dragged me into?" I ask, never tearing my eyes from the disgusting couple. I feel her hand move up and down my inner thigh, and her other hand draping my shoulder. I hold in a breathy moan, as her hands keep moving upward, almost to my crotch. "God...you're not making this easier for me."

"Shhh, no talking during the movie," Clare rasps in my ear, almost seductively, sending chills down my spine. I comply, and swallow air as I turn to the screen, showing the title card for the movie I have to endure for the next 100 minutes. I don't want to. I would rather sit inside my home and start on that slavery project, or _anything_ else. Maybe endure the mice and roaches at the dojo, sure.

Clare moves her hand from my thigh, and there's a cool breeze that replaces the warmth. It's sad to say, but I really missed the warmth. Thirty minutes into the movie, Clare moves her hand again, but she moves upward to the hem of my shirt. I cast my eyes down to where her hand is. Swiftly, Clare's hand goes under my shirt and she palms my breast, causing me to cover my mouth and muffle the gasp. Her long, skinny fingers move against my covered nipple, making it grow harder with each delicate touch. I whimper, and grasp the theater seat next to me, biting my finger to keep from moaning during the movie. My eyes are looking at the screen, and the theater grows hot, and my skin prickly and damp with collective sweat. I keep biting my finger, in hopes that I don't scream during the movie. My head throws back and my back arches, and I hear her giggling as she watches me writhe against her touch.

Immediately, Clare stops, and I whimper again, in clear disapproval. "That's your little reward for coming with me," she whispers, and removes her hand from under my shirt.

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**AN: This could be a great concept for an alpha/omega fix that's growing within the Supernatural fandom, as well as others. They remind me of a mixture of HP Veela/bond fics with BDSM...ahem, anyway. Whatever. Hey. My name's gabs. Welcome to the femslash side of Kickin' It. If you can just wipe your feet and sit down to enjoy the ride, that'd be great.  
**

**Chapter inspired by Katy Perry's Dark Horse****.**


	3. don't speak

**Disclaimer: Olivia Holt told me that maybe I'll own Kickin' It with my talent, and I believed her. If only she was still on the show now...**

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Is it possible to lose interest in something that mattered to you before, so quickly? Of so, then you can say, I got over what happened at the movie. No, not that. I almost got over seeing Jack with another girl, because I know it eventually wouldn't work out. We may be the same, but we're completely different. Plus, there's something to this 'slave' thing that draws me even closer. I'm not a masochist or anything. I'm just saying.

Besides that, I've been losing it since yesterday night, when I didn't release from Clare's nipple teasing at the movie theater. I _literally_ masturbated in the bathroom right after. Yeah, it was that fucking good. Why must she take over my personal life, and be the girl to take my innocence away? She touched me in ways that I hope my boyfriend or husband would touch me, and we haven't even _truly_ fucked. I don't even know how this works. How _does_ it work? How do you steal another girl's innocence, when _you're_ a girl? Strap-on? Fingers? What?

I feel like I'm whipped. I'm allowing a high aristocratic, bitchy, spoiled brat touch me everywhere in my body, like a biology project.

All of my classes seem to drag. Even gym class, one of those fun classes I sometimes look forward to, just drags on. I feel like I'm in this never-ending rut made for me, and me only. Where's the action? Sometimes I really miss the times when the Black Dragons would pick on us, or when stupid bitches would drool all over my then-boyfriend, or Grace droning on and on about the cheerleading team and how they need to work on their routines...I miss all of that. What the fuck happened? Was all of the fun sucked out of my being, and replaced with boring nothingness?

Does it hurt to say that drama _actually_ keeps me alive?

As if something answered my prayers, I hear some arguing outside of the chemistry classroom. Being a nosy teen, I bolt out of my seat and rush onwards the door to see the action. The teacher tries to call the kids back inside, but to no avail.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, that we're over, again!"

Oh god. I turn the other alcove, to see Julie running past me, with tears running down her cheeks. I want to run over to help her, but I remember that we're not exactly friends. I never really cared for her in the first place, since she's the nice to my former sensei, but also because she's turning into one of those nerdy girls turn sluts.

Instead, I run over to the crying redhead, and hug his frail body close to mine. Despite everything, Milton would always be my closest guy friend, and I respect that. Nothing comes between our friendship, not even boys, or girls (for the both of us). "It's okay, she wasn't worth it anyway."

—

I feel bad, the minute I see Milton's saddened face as I leave him alone, but unfortunately for me, I can't prioritize here. Next period was lunch, and I know that i have to pretend to be happy for my friends' sake. but I really don't want to. I don't even want to go to lunch. the hallways are empty, and I prefer it that way. I put all of my books inside the locker, and close it shut. However, suddenly, my body collides with the locker, with my hand pinned to the locker above my head.

"Shhhh," I hear a low hiss, and familiar fingers on my side. I whimper, feeling the cold locker on the side of my face, slowly turning warm as I stay there. "Don't make any sudden sounds."

"What are you doing here?" I whisper-yell, failing miserably to struggle out of her grip.

"Your school security sucks," Clare rasps, her lips mere inches away from my cheek. "Apparently there's some big problem so my school was let out early. I got lonely, so I took the opportunity to visit my favorite slave."

"You mean your only slave," I whisper back. "I must say, right in the hallway of my school? Doesn't surprise me from the incident at the movie theater yesterday."

"Mmm, so you _enjoyed_ it," Clare hums delightfully, and her lips brush my cheek for a small second. "I'll keep that in mind when I'm done with you." With that, Clare quickly turns me around, and pushes her knee between my legs. I gasp involuntarily, and throw my head back against the lockers. She immediately takes claim of my exposed neck, kissing and nipping my sensitive part. I bite my lip so harshly that I draw blood, to make sure I don't make any loud noises in an empty hallway. Anyone can come here and see what we're doing.

Clare's pantyhose-covered leg moves slightly between my legs, and I almost go into an overload. I allow my eyes to flutter shut, and a low whimper surpass my bitten lip. Her leg moves more roughly and swiftly, and I bite my lip again. She's doing this on purpose. She wants me to make a sound. I have more willpower than that.

She stops her leg, and her hand snakes down to the hem of my shirt. Easily, she reaches under my sweatshirt and her fingers immediately find my clothed breast. I thought it was a good idea to wear a padded t-shirt bra this time, however, with the lust growing in the air, I immediately regret my clothing decision.

With a grunt. she reaches behind me and unclasps it, and I gasp again. "Why did you—"

"Don't speak," Clare growls, and pinches my exposed nipple. I whimper again, while she assaults two of the most sensitive spots I have, without touching me...down there. It's weird, how she tends to know these things and claim to hate me. However, she hasn't said she hated me, ever. It's just a thought. She goes to a private school, and practically lives in royalty, and I'm just...normal. What would she want with me? She can have anyone she wants, and she picks me to be her slave for the week.

I feel like a high-maintenance mistress, submitting under her lesbian womanly woes, and I'm enjoying this more than I should. I shouldn't, but when she touches me or kisses me, a mere thought passes away other than this. I can't think of anything else except her, her touches, her kisses, her carefulness, the lust in her eyes, the warmth of her body flushed against mine, her subtle, non-hesitant movements in public and her rough, passionate ones in private.

The air grows thick with lust, and I feel the dampness of my skin, and sweat already trickling down to my sweatshirt and the familiar heat pooling in my abdomen. I cover my hand suddenly, and scream into it, feeling myself release with only small touches. I twitch and arch my body flush against hers and grind myself against her leg, and I only see white until I relax. Suddenly, her leg moves and my legs give out as I'm sliding onto the hallway floor. panting wildly with my shirt ridden up and my bra still loose inside my sweatshirt.

I stare at her, while she grins at me with semi-swollen lips. She grabs my chin and brushes her lips against mine, before pulling away. I sigh in disapproval as she walks away from me, and exits the school. I check the time, and I realize that lunch is almost over, so I know for a fact that the students will litter the hallways in a few seconds. With time on my hands, I run over to the bathroom to fix myself up, especially the bra she unclasped, and hide the possession mark she left on my neck.

Shit.

* * *

**AN: Apparently some people are faving and following, so I am pretty glad about that. I only have two chapters left, so keep on the lookout, loves. The next two will probably turn romantic for our little couple, but don't be alarmed if you've been interested since day one.**


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